The Girl Who Counted
by thequeergiraffe
Summary: A series of short one-shots in which Molly Hooper is the Doctor's companion. Excluding the Doctor himself, all the other characters will be either alien or Sherlock characters. Tenth Doctor. Set whenever because he's the Doctor and normally time parameters don't apply.
1. Chapter 1

**Molly and the Doctor go to a Christmas party.**

Molly scuffed her boot in the fresh snow. "You can't spend Christmas alone. It isn't right."

"Nine hundred years worth of Christmases, Molly Hooper," the Doctor said, smiling. "I'm bound to spend some of them alone."

"Right, well not this one." She reached out and took his hand, surprised (as always) by its warmth. "I'm going to a bit of a party. You could come." Tucking her hair behind her ear, she added softly, "You could be my date. If you wanted."

The Doctor put his hands in his coat pockets and let out a long breath. "Well," he said, tipping his head from side to side. "All right. I never could resist a party."

They dressed inside the TARDIS. Molly helped the Doctor with his bow tie, and the Doctor did up Molly's zip. They stood together in the mirror, observing their handiwork. "What do you think?" Molly asked, tugging at the clingy fabric of her dress.

"Stunning," the Doctor said, smiling warmly. He had such a flirty smile, the Doctor. It always made her blush all over.

The walk to Sherlock and John's flat was short; the Doctor parked the TARDIS just around the corner. He still gave her his coat, though, and she huddled inside it. "I should warn you about Sherlock Holmes," she said as they reached the door. God, she would give anything just to be sure Sherlock wouldn't embarrass her tonight.

"Is he an alien?" the Doctor asked, sounding mildly curious.

Molly laughed. "No."

"A robot?"

"Don't think so," Molly said contemplatively. "Although he's certainly been accused more than once. No, I wanted to warn you that...he's smart. Brilliant, really. And..." She searched for the right word. "A bit...mean."

The Doctor cocked his eyebrow. "Mean?"

"Well, yes. But I still like him. I used to fancy him, even, before I met you. Oh!" She flushed pink and pressed her palms to her cheeks. "That came out wrong."

A cheeky wink and a rock back on his heels were the Doctor's only responses to that. He took Molly's arm in his and nodded towards the door. "Shall we?"

They didn't enter the party together, though. The Doctor was distracted by the basement flat, giddy as a schoolboy and scanning everything he could with the sonic screwdriver. That left Molly on her own as she went upstairs, very conscious of the bright lipstick and men's coat she was wearing. She took a steeling breath outside and then walked awkwardly into the flat. "Hello, everyone," she called. It seemed like she was interrupting something, so she added, "Sorry. Hello."

She slipped off her coat, embarrassed and also a little gratified at the looks John and Greg gave her, and they chatted a little. Throughout the conversation, Molly kept one ear trained towards the steps, listening for the Doctor. So it took her a moment to register what Sherlock was saying.

"Sorry, what?"

"New boyfriend," Sherlock said smugly. "You're seeing him this very night."

"Take a day off," John groaned.

Sherlock opened his mouth, no doubt to spew more horrifying deductions, but the Doctor chose that very moment to pop into the room, his trainers squeaking on the hardwood floor. "Hullo!" he beamed, looking at everyone in turn. "And happy Christmas to you all."

John's brow furrowed. "Is he-"

"The Doctor," Molly said quickly.

"Oh," John said interestedly. "Doctor who?"

"Just 'the Doctor'," he said, adjusting his specs solemnly. He leaned to Molly and whispered in her ear: "By the way, not to alarm you, but that mold downstairs is definitely not from Earth. I did a quick scan-"

"You're Molly's new boyfriend?" Sherlock asked, clearly in disbelief. He looked the Doctor over, his mouth pursed. "No. No, you're not. So who are you?"

"The Doctor," he said, in the sort of tone one used when something was devastatingly obvious. "And Molly's my companion. We were just popping through, actually, sort of a stopover on the way to the...um...basement."

"The basement?" Mrs. Hudson looked from Sherlock to the Doctor and then back again. "Why in heavens-"

"Love to stay and chat," the Doctor said hurriedly, grabbing Molly and bundling her into his coat, "but we really must be off. Bye!" He pulled her towards the steps and looked back at her as he jogged down them, clapping his hands gleefully. "Alien mold in the basement! I couldn't ask for a better Christmas!"


	2. Chapter 2

**This is what happens when the Doctor travels alone for too long.  
**

"You look sad," Molly said softly, "when you think I can't see you. Are you okay? And don't just say you are, because I know what that means, looking sad when you think no one can see you."

The Doctor's hands paused over the TARDIS' controls, but he didn't look up. "I'm fine," he said after a moment, his voice toneless and his mouth down-turned.

"You're clearly not." Molly took a step forward and stopped. She chewed at her lip. "Did something happen? While you were away?"

The Time Lord was silent. He whizzed around the controls until he was as far away from her as he could manage.

It hurt. The Doctor was her best friend- no, more than that. She'd never cared for anyone the way she cared for him. But she didn't even know him, not really. She'd been home for two weeks without him, but how long had he been gone?

"You look older," she tried. Still silence. She swallowed back her fear and asked the question that had been on her mind since the moment he'd opened the door, so grim-faced and dark-eyed. "Did someone die?"

He was quiet so long she didn't think he was going to answer. Then, at last: "Yes. No. Sort of."

It wasn't the most definitive of responses, but it was better than nothing. Molly walked back around to where he was and leaned against the TARDIS' controls, her arms crossed. "How long has it been since the last time I've seen you?"

There it was, even if it was only a shadow of his usual smile. "Too long," he said evasively, but Molly's stomach still fluttered at the pronouncement.

"Was there someone else?" she asked, searching his eyes. She hadn't meant to ask it, but the words fell out of her mouth unbidden. The look on the Doctor's face was answer enough. "What happened to her?"

The Doctor turned his attention back to the controls. "Have I taken you to Melissa Majoria yet? Lovely place. Unless you've got a bee allergy," he added with a grimace.

"Doctor," Molly said quietly.

Looking up at the ceiling, the Doctor poked his tongue in his cheek and sighed. "Everyone leaves me in the end," he said seriously, looking at Molly with the saddest eyes she'd ever seen. "That's the curse of the Time Lords. The only thing I can do is to keep looking forward. Mols. Molly Hooper. You're still here, and that's something." He took her chin in his hand. "If I start mourning everyone I've lost, I'll never be able to stop." There was something pleading in his expression, something childish and broken.

Molly couldn't bear that look, not for another second. "Didn't you say there was a planet with an ocean full of bubbles?"

"Florana!" the Doctor cheered, immediately setting course. "You'll love it. One of the most beautiful planets in the universe, if I say so myself. The sand, Molly, you've never felt sand so soft! And the plants..."


	3. Chapter 3

**Allons-y.**

It was like the world had gone completely mad, just for the day. No one else could remember it, but Molly did. She'd started her morning in the usual way. Hit the snooze button, slept too late for a shower, tied up her hair, threw on something relatively clean, stopped for coffee to-go, trotted to the morgue as quick as her legs could carry her. It was a quiet morning- no Sherlock, and she wasn't sure whether to thank God or to curse Him for it- and Molly spent most of it working with the corpse of a seventy-year-man. Heart failure, very routine. No autopsy. She was just prepping the poor old dear for burial.

And then it happened. The rattling. Half the shelves in the morgue trembling as the bodies began to stir inside them. Even thinking about it now- her knees pulled to her chest, both hands cradling a warm mug of tea- made her shiver. Those noises. God, she would never forget the moans of the dead, the way their nails scratched at the metal doors that kept them locked away.

Then there was the other noise- _woosh, woosh_- and a wind so strong it picked her paperwork up and scattered around the room. And where there had been only air moments ago, there was suddenly an old blue police box, the light on top blinking. The door creaked open. A man stepped out.

"Huh," he said. He was wearing a pinstripe suit with, bizarrely, a pair of Chuck Taylors and a duster. The man pushed his spectacles up to the bridge of his nose and frowned at Molly. "This doesn't look like 1909. What is this, 2000-something?"

"2009," Molly managed. It surprised her, the ability to speak. It surprised her that she could even put together a coherent thought.

"2009," the man muttered to himself, rubbing his chin and pulling a face. "A hundred years off."

He turned to the police box and pointed at it accusingly. "You're asking for another recalibration, y'know. I ought to-"

Just then, all the corpses in their cold metal cages began to bang their fists violently, all of them crying in unison: "Doctor! Doctor!" At once the man's body language changed. His back straightened and his hand groped at his breast pocket. He found what he was looking for- an odd little thing that looked sort of like a marker-pen, maybe, and made a shrill whistling sound- and pointed it at the shelves before holding it up to his face.

"Blimey, this again," he groaned, grimacing at the marker-pen device. He tucked it away and looked at Molly as though he was just properly seeing her for the first time. "What's your name?" he asked, holding out his hand to her.

The fear and the noise and the confusion short-circuited her nerves and her awkwardness. She took his hand. "Molly Hooper."

The man smiled. "Molly Hooper. Today you're going to help me save the planet."

And she did. It really was as simple as that. The Doctor (and what sort of name was that, anyway?) gave the orders, and Molly followed them as though she'd never even had a choice. And in a way, she hadn't. A dozen corpses spring to life all at once and a madman in a box shows up and says he can help, but you have to do exactly as he says...well, what else was there to do? Luckily for everyone, the Doctor had dealt with something like that before. Aliens, he said, displaced from their home planet and residing in the bodies of the dead. It turned out to be happening not just at Bart's or even just in London, but all over the world. The rest of the day was something of a blur: they joined up with a special task force called Torchwood and used some kind of energy converter thingy to send all the aliens back from where they'd came. Surreal. There was no other word for it. The whole thing had been surreal. Then Torchwood had sent out a pulse of some kind that made everyone forget. The Doctor said it hadn't worked on her because the TARDIS- his police box- was protecting her. "She thinks you're one of mine," he said, something playful in his expression.

She was covered in dirt and scratches at that point, her hair wild and her clothes a mess. But she'd spent the day running and shouting and about ten seconds from death and in that moment she simply wasn't afraid of anything. "I was wondering if you'd like to have coffee," she said, her voice even and her chin raised.

The Doctor just grinned at her. "The dead rise up and a man appears out of thin air and you want to know about coffee." He tapped her nose and winked. "Humans."

If that was rejection, it was the strangest Molly had ever heard. She cleared her throat. "I know a place-"

"Miss Hooper," the Doctor interrupted, his eyes twinkling. "I would absolutely love to have coffee. But first I need to stop off in 1909. Pressing stuff, I'm afraid; can't wait." He tipped back on his heels and gave her a sneaky look. "You could come."

Molly laughed. "What, to 1909?" The Doctor's face was expectant. "You're not serious."

"Cross my hearts," he said, doing an 'x' with his finger over both sides of his chest. "This old girl." He patted the police box. "Did I mention she can travel in time?"

"Your police box."

"TARDIS, yeah." He tipped his head and gave her another slow smile. "Will you come?"

Madness. Total, utter madness. But who could say no to that smile? "All right," she said, hardly knowing what she was agreeing to. "Let's go to 1909. Why not?"


	4. Chapter 4

There was a man watching Molly from across the street, leaning against the lamp post with his arms folded. He looked a bit like a science teacher, she thought: bow tie, tweed jacket, Harry Potter-esque round glasses perched on his long nose. Neither the glasses nor the moppy brown fringe that fell over his forehead could quite conceal the red rims around his eyes.

She clicked the garden gate closed and smiled awkwardly at him. He gave her a sad, watery sort of smile in return and tipped an invisible hat at her.

A strange compulsion took hold of her, and she blurted out, "Are you all right?" before she even knew she was going to speak. Her feet were leaving the pavement; she was crossing the street unbidden. How could she help herself? There was something about the man that put her in mind of an orphaned baby animal, gawky and helpless and hopelessly alone.

The man smiled genuinely then and brushed his hair out his eyes. "I'm not sure," he said, seeming surprised by his response. He licked his lips and looked up at the sky, searching the looming rain clouds which for days had refused to break. "I'm not at all sure."

There was something so familiar about him. Molly pushed a strand of loose hair back behind her ear and looked him over, her brow furrowed. "Have we met? Sorry, it's just..." She shrugged. "I don't know. Sorry."

"You apologize too much, Molly Hooper," he said, and then it clicked. Molly's throat went dry. The Doctor's smile widened. "New face. Well, I say 'new'."

Molly pressed her palm to her mouth. "Oh my God. You look so..." She shook her head and looked him over anew. "Young."

The Doctor's smile soured and fell away. He cleared his throat and scuffed his shoe against the pavement. "How is life, Miss Hooper? Are you happy?"

"Mostly." It was surprisingly hard for Molly to talk to this Doctor. The simple truth was that she'd loved _her_ Doctor with all her heart. Comparing that to her silly crush on Sherlock would have been like comparing a supernova to the flame of a candle. But this man with his sad eyes and silly coat was a stranger to her. She let her gaze drift to a hedgerow as she spoke. "I've got a new cat, named her Sister. Nobody else gets it, but..." She took a deep breath. "Greg's taken me out on a few dates, now. You remember Greg?"

The Doctor grinned and it was almost a shadow of his old smile, the cheeky one that had always made Molly's heart beat fast. "How could I forget? Good old Greg. I saw that coming from a mile away, you know."

"Sure you did," Molly teased, lightly punching his arm. A single raindrop splattered on the pavement between their feet. "John's finally forgiven me. Don't think he'll ever forgive you, though."

"Of course not," the Doctor said lightly, though he looked hurt. "I'm the one who took Sherlock away."

"You had to," Molly began, but the Doctor gave her a look and she fell silent.

"I only stopped by to check in," he said. It felt like a lie. "Can't stay long. The wife's got the TARDIS running."

Molly raised her eyebrows. "Wife? You're married?"

Ever secretive, the Doctor only patted her arm. "Good-bye, Mols." The words felt frighteningly final.

"Will I see you again?" Molly asked, her voice small.

The Doctor was already striding away, but he paused. "I won't say 'no'. The universe loves proving me wrong." And then he was walking again, twiddling his sonic between his long fingers.

Molly watched him go, her hands folded in front of her and a thousand things she wanted to say poised on her tongue. In the end she settled on just one, too quiet for him to even hear: "Good-bye, Doctor."

**A/N: I wasn't really as broken up about the Ponds' departure as a lot of other people seemed to be, but thinking about the Doctor being so lonely again definitely hurts my heart. He was sort of scary after he lost Rose, so I wonder if he'll go back to that again. Anyway, I know I'm excited to find out.**

**Not sure if/when I'll be writing more in this particular universe. I like the idea of cramming Molly, Lestrade, Sherlock, John, and the Doctor into the TARDIS together and navigating the ensuing chaos, so I might try that out some time in the future. I'd also like to write a bit more Lestrade/Molly (Molstrade? Lolly?). So there might be more. I'm going to call this complete for now, but I might come back to it. You never know.**


End file.
